HOW I WRITE ABOUT SEX…

HOW I WRITE ABOUT SEX…
…It Was a Dark and Stormy Night…

HOW I WRITE ABOUT SEX…

How I write…

It’s an odd thing, things just come at me, and I write; these random, and sometimes not so random thoughts come at me, and I write…

So here goes:

… It Was a Dark and Stormy Night:

Steve Hill and his new wife, Cheryl, are honeymooning in Europe, near Transylvania.

One mid-trip hot summer evening, they’re driving along in their rental car, listening to music from the local radio station, Taylor Swift’s, “Bad Love” is blasting from the car’s speakers as they motor along a deserted local highway. It’s late; they’re going back to their quaint Transylvanian styled hotel after a long, looooong, multi course, native dinner at a fine, though touristy, bistro.

It’s raining very hard just then, and Steve can barely see the road in front of the car.

Dark Night

Suddenly… the car skids out of control.

Steve attempts to control it, but to no avail, the car swerves and smashes into a tree…

Dark House

Moments later, as Steve shakes his head to clear the fog, Taylor is no longer singing… silence reigns. Dazed, Steve looked over at the passenger seat and saw Cheryl unconscious, but still holding the copy of the book, “The Art of the Deal”, that she’d been skimming in the dim passenger compartment light as he drove along… Cheryl’s head is bleeding profusely, blood is puddling everywhere…

Despite the rain and the unfamiliar countryside Steve knew he had to get Cheryl medical assistance. So carefully Steve picked Cheryl up from the seat and began trudging down the road. After a short while he saw a light in the distance and he headed towards it.

The light was coming from a large, old, old, castle like, house.

Old House

Steve approached the huge front door warily, and knocked.

A short bit later, the door was opened by a small, kind of hunched over, almost hunchbacked, unruly clothed, middle-aged man.

Steve, in complete exhaustion and relief, immediately blurted out loudly, and in English:

“Hello, my name is Steve Hill and this is my wife Cheryl… we’re here on our Honeymoon, and we’ve been in a terrible accident… my wife is seriously hurt.

Can I please use your phone?

Please…”

The almost hunchbacked little man replied softly in heavily accented, almost pigeon English:

“I’m zo zorry, ve doan hab a fone… bud mi Mazter iz a Doktor…

Cum in… cum in… und I vil ged him.”

Steve slowly carried Cheryl in through the huge wooden door, into a chilly, dark, moist feeling, cavern like, stone foyer with a gigantic stairway leading upwards into the house in its center… and with a smaller stairway going down into the…

Stair Way

A well-tailored, gray haired, older man, with a cape over his shoulders, was already walking haltingly down those stone stairs towards Steve, and he said, in perfect English… first in annoyance, and loudly, to the almost hunchbacked, middle aged man:

“Igor… I’ve told you before not to speak like that, you went to school, speak like you were taught, don’t embarrass me that way again…”

And next he said more normally to Steve:

“I’m afraid my Assistant may have misled you… I am not a Medical Doctor…

I am a Scientist.

However, it is many miles to the nearest clinic… and I have had some basic medical training, I will see what I can do.

Next the “Master” says forcefully:

“Igor, bring them down to the La-bor-atory.”

With those forcefully spoken words, Igor takes the still unconscious Cheryl from Steve’s arms and carries her to the stairway heading downstairs with Steve following closely behind… The two walk silently down one long flight of steps, and after walking down a narrow, cold, stone corridor some 30 feet, opening a rough-hewn wood door, and entering an immaculate, and modern, stark white room with fluorescent lights aglow, Igor places Cheryl on a long table (in what must be the “la-bor-atory”), just as Steve collapses from the burnout and stress of his efforts to save Cheryl… and his own massive internal injuries.

la-bor-atory

So Igor places passed out Steve on an adjoining lab table.

Igor’s “Master”, now dressed all in white, almost immediately enters the la-bor-atory…

And after a brief examination, Master looks worried…

In a short moment he says:

“Things are serious…

Igor…

Prepare a transfusion.”

Igor and his Master then work feverishly…

FEVERISHLY!

But to no avail… Steve and Cheryl Hill are soon no more.

Muerto…

muerto…

The Hills’ deaths upset Igor’s Master greatly.

Wearily, and ever so slowly… SLOWLY… Master left the death and quiet of the La-bor-atory and climbed the steps up to his second floor Conservatory which housed his Grand Piano. It was there, in that Conservatory, that Master always found solace…

Peace

And so, he sat down at his concert Grand Piano and he began to play…

And a stirring, almost haunting, melody filled the house.

Haunting…

Taylor Swift’s “Shake, Shake, Shake” it ain’t…

Meanwhile…

Igor is in the lab tidying up.

What with the haunting music filling the house, and the recent events in the La-bor-atory in the foreground of his mind, his concentration is a bit distracted, but…

But…

Did something move?

And now…

Now…

Just out of the corner of his eye…

He definitely catches some movement…

… … …

And looking head on he’s certain that the fingers on Cheryl’s right hand are twitching; that they’re keeping time to the haunting piano music.

Igor is stunned…

STUNNED!

And so, somewhat addled, he turns slightly and glances at Steve… and next he watches in horror as Steve’s right arm begins to rise, his raised hand marking the beat of the haunting piano music.

Igor is flabbergasted… he’s simply blown away…

And just then, both Cheryl and Steve sit up straight!

OMG!

OMG…

Igor is frantic.

Frantic!

Unable to contain himself any longer, in outright FEAR and excitement, Igor dashes up the two flights of stone stairs to the Conservatory where his Master is attempting to mask his grief by playing piano…

And as Igor bursts through the Conservatory door he shouts out (and in perfect English…):

“Master, Master!

The Hills are alive with the sound of music!”

Hills

Damn

How I write.

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